


This Loathsome Shard of Love Is All I Have

by shakespearespaz



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Gen, I needed protective Charlie towards Rachel in my life, Internal Conflict, Love/Hate, Possessive Behavior, hints of dark!Charlie, post 1x20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1269181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespearespaz/pseuds/shakespearespaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small foray into Charlie's mind after the events of the season one finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Loathsome Shard of Love Is All I Have

Charlie may not have had that eerie sixth sense that her mother had when trouble neared, which probably explained why she spent so much time running head first into it, but everyone knew that something had changed after the Tower. The air felt off, and not as in the horror movies that Charlie would never watch, but more like a pervasive uncomfortable temperature persisted, a balmy change that made one sweat and shiver at the same time.

Charlie was waiting for her chance to leave. She wasn’t stupid enough to take off on her own, not as they trekked south through the foot hills of the Rockies. She was waiting for the right budding metropolis, where she could sneak out without Miles asking questions, or her mother’s tears, or perhaps violence. Enough had been churning inside her since Danny’s death and the revelation of her uncle’s clouded past and the increasing vacancy of her mother’s stare.

The drive that had sustained her mother, sustained her to the point that she would let Nora die, had been snuffed out as soon as the blinking screens confirmed that the missiles had landed. Charlie had turned away in disgust and shock but had been ready for Rachel to crumple. As Charlie had twisted her head back, she watched her mother’s still and pale form refuse to move even as Aaron shouted.

Even without looking behind as they continued their painful descent from the mountains, Charlie knew that her mother was fading fast. In her mind, she could imagine Miles’ hand, tentative against the small of the woman’s back. Charlie heard him catch her with a sharp intake of breath whenever she lost her footing, Rachel’s strained mind out of sync with the rest of her body.

Charlie didn’t want Miles to touch Rachel. She didn’t want anyone near her. Charlie hated herself for it but was too angry to care; her mother had been better off in Philadelphia. It was cruel to want her back in a cage, but at least in a cage she had been safe—from classified coil technology and from the eyes of wandering strangers and from herself.

She would never breathe a word to anyone while she gave her mother the silent treatment, but too often when she closed her eyes her mother lay broken and bloody in Miles’ arms instead of Nora, and she saw a future bleaker than the one they already faced. One loose step down the gravelly cliff face, one stray arrow, one shot to the head and she’d be gone. The fear fluttered constantly in her chest and all Charlie could do was swallow the waver and frown and avoid anyone’s concerned gaze.

She stayed angry, offering curt replies and stinging glares to any who talked to her. Miles had the closest shot at mending any ties, but he wasn’t showing any initiative. He navigated the territory deftly, knew instinctively how to take charge, carry a group of people safely through the battle, but he was on autopilot. The most focus he could summon was for Rachel, keeping her warm and fed and rested and tackling the most difficult task, which was convincing her to do these things.

Charlie couldn’t grasp _them._

He’d shown nothing at any mention of her mother all the way to Philadelphia, and she wished she could rewatch his face, replay the moment when he had learned that she lived. Charlie’s heart and head had been pounding too fast with adrenaline, but it was the earliest she could connect him with any trace of emotion towards her mother. And now, suddenly, Miles loved Charlie and Miles loved her mother. She loved him, and her too she supposed, but something was still wrong.

On another level she understood; she understood that it was easier to replace the ragged hole someone left in you with a blank page. And she knew exactly how confusing it was to have them come spinning back into your life, having to deal with their brokenness when you already had your fair share of cracks.

Rachel may have returned to them, but as they journeyed, she started slipping away. She refused to sleep until exhaustion finally claimed her. Charlie ignored her when sat sullen by the dying embers as they packed up camp in the morning. The expected frustration didn’t seize at her when her mother left the slack for others to pick up, instead she just wanted to leave Rachel there, quiet and consumed by a reality that wasn’t this one. It took everything Charlie had not to scream at her uncle to back away when he cupped Rachel’s face and tried to return her to them.

She still didn’t know the details of their history, but it was so wrong. Her mother wasn’t his to look out for. Miles had his time with her and he’d squandered it, ruining his supposed love. In a perversion of nature and in lieu of Miles, Charlie decided that Rachel was her responsibility. That was what she’d always done on some level anyway, with Danny.

Charlie started walking behind Rachel instead of Miles, staring him down if he turned to touch her. Rachel didn’t know that it was her daughter instead of her lover who brought her water or caught her as she began to fall, but it mattered to Charlie. When they had to flee a small town near the border into New Mexico in the early dawn, the only explanation she gave Miles was that a local had been too forward.

She didn’t mention that she’d used the man for target practice because he had corned a catatonic Rachel.

Not that her mother had acknowledged her savior or her daughter, but to Charlie it had been cathartic. She had held her tongue long enough, at Miles’ command and Nora’s suggestion. The same mantra she had recited to control Rachel, but now Rachel made far more sense. Charlie had taught herself to be patient and cautious, and her return on the investment was a dead father, brother and friend and an empty shell of a mother.

It wasn't fair, that the one thing she had left to protect was the one who drove fury and fear through her with every agonized breath. She may have seethed with frustration at every move Rachel made, but Charlie woke in terror at the thought of losing her, the taste of metal in her mouth and unsettled emptiness stirring in her heart.

She envisioned spearing every Militia uniform who flashed through her mind, stealing back the things they had taken from her. They all got to destroy--Monroe, Neville, Miles--but she was meant to protect, and even that she had failed. Her mother was the last salvageable piece of her shipwrecked life, and Charlie needed her with a passion that she had never known, even if it meant prying Miles' cold fingers off Rachel's dulled, dirty curls.

Nothing felt more just than wiping from her knife the blood of a man who tried to touch her family.


End file.
